


And Back Again

by etamiss



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Domestic, Hugs, M/M, Past Abuse, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5026135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etamiss/pseuds/etamiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke gets back from a trip to Tevinter. Hugs happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Back Again

Standing on the edge of the dock, Hawke closes his eyes as he takes a deep, satisfied breath. "Would you believe me if I said I missed the smell of this place?"

Varric's elbow knocks Hawke's hip when he pushes past him. "What, the smell of fish and crime?"

Hawke takes another breath, unfazed. "It's an underrated combination."

He opens his eyes with a sigh, only to find the closest prostitute watching him with suspicion. She's clearly torn between plying her trade and giving him a wide berth, and Hawke offer a cheerful wave to accompany the explanation, "I'm just happy to be home."

The woman's suspicion intensifies and Varric's hand closes around Hawke's wrist before he can make things worse. "Please ignore my friend here. He's troubled."

"I am not-" Hawke begins, but Varric is leading him off the dock before he can finish.

"Maybe find a different crowd if you want to extol Kirkwall's virtues?" Varric says helpfully. "I mean, I can think of at least one elf who'd be open to it."

As tired as he is after a week at sea, Hawke can't stop the smile that spreads across his face at the oblique mention of Fenris. He missed Kirkwall immensely during their trip to Tevinter but he missed Fenris the most.

Slinging his pack on his shoulders, he follows Varric through the docks as he asks, "Do you think he's okay?"

"Who, Fenris?" Varric shrugs. "I think we would've heard by now if he wasn't."

Hawke hums, unconvinced. "His letters were… brief."

A handful of short letters was hardly enough to compensate for three months spent away from Fenris but it was an arrangement borne of necessity rather than choice. Fenris' legal status in Tevinter was questionable at best (and property at worst), which ruled out any chance of him coming along, and while his reading was good enough to get by, lengthy correspondence was still a bridge too far.

As such, Hawke's letters were short and to the point:

_"Hate Tevinter. Miss you."_

_"Killed two magisters. One by accident."_

_"Still not a dragon. I live in hope."_

Fenris' responses were equally concise and so while the exchange did serve as proof of life, it rarely helped Hawke miss Fenris any less.

"Fenris is fine," Varric says, apparently aware that Hawke's silence has moved from pensive to fretting. "Isabela's been keeping him busy."

Hawke jogs up the steps beside him. "But Merrill said-"

"That he'd been quiet," Varric finishes. "Everyone's quiet compared to Merrill."

"What about Aveline's letters?" Hawke says. "She said Fenris had been in fights."

"He's Fenris," Varric says. "He loves fights."

"He-"

Hawke's objection falters at the memory of the genuine delight on Fenris' face when they stumbled upon some ill-fated slavers on the coast.

"He might love fights," Hawke allows.

"See?" Varric says. "Nothing to worry about."

"You don't know that," Hawke says. "Anders didn't even mention Fenris once in his letters. That could mean something."

"It means Blondie talked about his new cat for seven paragraphs and ran out of room."

Hawke huffs out a sigh. "I can't believe he prefers cats to Fenris."

"He prefers cats to almost anything," Varric says, not inaccurately. "Don't take it personally." He glances up at him as they round the corner into Lowtown. "I'm sure Fenris is the same as always. But hey, if you're looking for a bet, I'm more than willing to put a sovereign down on him being broody, spiky and happy to see you."

Hawke's smiling even as he rolls his eyes. "You know, you have to stop offering me terrible bets."

"I will," Varric says with a grin. "Just as soon as you stop taking them."

"I maintain that I could've eaten that entire cheese wheel if you hadn't intervened," Hawke mutters. Even after two weeks, defeat still smarts. "The dizziness was part of my process."

"Oh, I believe you," Varric lies. He comes to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, already slipping back into the shadow of the Hanged Man. "Maybe you should discuss your _process_ with Fenris. He can give you some tips."

The memory of Fenris casually tucking into an entire chicken is a proud one and Hawke smiles happily to himself.

Beside him, Varric sighs. "You're thinking about the chicken, aren't you? It upsets me that I know this much about you."

"I'm an open book," Hawke says. "You know this."

"You're a terrible book," Varric says. "Trust me, it took a lot of editing to make it seem like you weren't just lunging from one terrible decision to another."

Hawke decides not to comment on the (lack of) success on that front. "Well, the next chapter is going to have to wait. I have business to attend to."

"Right," Varric says with a hefty dose of sarcasm. "You're an important man. So many elves to hug and sandwiches to eat."

Hawke scowls. "I'm a one-elf man, thank you."

"But as far as sandwiches are concerned, you'll take all comers?" Varric's smile is lopsided as he backs towards the door of the Hanged Man. "Tell Fenris I said hello. And sleep well, Hawke. You earned it."

The door squeaks as he opens it, light and laughter spilling out into Lowtown for a brief moment, and Hawke wrinkles his nose at the familiar waft of ale and body odour as he begins the trek back up to Hightown.

On second thoughts, maybe he didn't miss the smell of Kirkwall all that much.

 

 

+++

 

 

Everyone is asleep by the time Hawke makes it home.

Given that it's long past midnight, it's not an unexpected development and Hawke gently quashes his hope of a breathless reunion wherein Fenris leapt into his arms and let Hawke kiss him for at least an hour.

Instead, when he eases the door to the mansion shut behind him, he's greeted with a dark house, a stack of post labelled 'Messere Hawke', and a wet nose shoved enthusiastically into his crotch.

"I'm sorry," Hawke says with as much sincerity as he can muster, "I'm seeing someone. It's pretty serious. I hope you understand."

Removing his nose from between Hawke's legs, Waffle tilts his head and gives a questioning whine.

"I know, I know," Hawke teases, scritching behind his ears, "you're heartbroken, I can tell." He crouches down, letting the dog sniff and lick at his neck and face as he runs his hands through his fur. "I missed you too, boy."

Waffle's answering bark is the dog equivalent of 'As you should'. Smiling, Hawke buries his face briefly in Waffle's fur before standing up with a sigh. "Come on, bed time," he says. "I promise I'll take you for a nice long walk tomorrow. We can even go visit that baker you like to steal from."

Waffle prances around in a jubilant circle before following Hawke's instructions and plopping down to sleep.

"When I said bed time, I did mean in your bed rather than on my feet," Hawke points out, wiggling his toes as much as he can beneath the solid furry bulk now parked against his legs. "I do kind of need those."

Waffle gives no indication of caring as he snuffles contentedly at Hawke's feet.

Hawke sighs. "Thanks, pal."

Inching his feet out from where they're wedged under his dog, Hawke tosses his pack under the nearest table and takes a stealthy sniff of his underarms as he makes his way up the stairs. He's definitely smelled better but has also definitely smelled worse and so hopes that the excitement of his return will be enough to distract Fenris from any lingering unpleasantness.

There's no light coming from the bedroom when he inches the door open, save for the sheen of moonlight behind the curtains. The bright sweep of Fenris' hair -- longer than when he left -- is the first thing Hawke can make out but even that is enough to bring a fond smile to his lips.

That smile disappears, however, when the second thing he sees is Fenris' glowing hand closing around the hilt of a dagger.

"Shit-"

Fenris is out of bed in an instant, blade raised, and Hawke lets out a panicked yelp as he throws up a barrier to shield himself from any flying knives. "Fenris, wait!"

Fenris comes to an abrupt halt. With his face illuminated by the glow of the barrier, Hawke can see the exact moment that realisation dawns.

"Hawke?"

"Surprise?" Hawke says with a tentative smile.

"You-" Fenris takes a step forward, stopping just short of the barrier as he sets the knife on the bookshelf. "I thought you weren't coming back for another month?"

"I was a very efficient ambassador," Hawke says. "Or they got sick of me. One of the two."

Fenris smiles at that. Somehow it's an even lovelier sight than Hawke remembers and for the first time in his life, he wishes he had less durable defensive magic.

"Sorry," Hawke says, gesturing to the magical wall around him. "I blame Tevinter for making me twitchy."

"I suppose I can't be angry about you avoiding assassination attempts," Fenris says fondly. "Although I'd hoped you would trust me not to be the assassin."

"I panicked?" Hawke offers. "I promise, it is no reflection on you or how much I want to hug you."

Fenris smiles again and Hawke is tempted to punch through his own barrier just to get to him. (It's only the fact that he broke his hand as a teenager trying the same trick which stops him.)

"You look… really great," Hawke says honestly. If he can't give Fenris a hug, he can at least give him compliments. "I like what you've done with your hair."

It's definitely longer, possibly past his shoulders, but bound up in a messy bun which Hawke really wants to untie. Fenris' fingers stray to it, tucking a loose strand behind his ear as he gives a self-conscious little shrug. "It seemed practical to tie it back."

"Practical's good," Hawke says. "I'm a big fan of practical."

His gaze shifts down to where Fenris' current nightwear is nearly slipping off one shoulder. The shirt is huge on him, falling down to mid-thigh, and Hawke blinks in recognition. "Is that my shirt?"

Fenris' self-consciousness fades as he folds his arms across his chest with a smirk. "You weren't here to use it."

Hawke raises his eyebrows. "Oh, I see how it is. After years of refusing to go shopping with me, I leave town for three short months and immediately you're helping yourself to my wardrobe. You know, I may just be forced to take that shirt off you." He grins and puts a hand to his heart. "Such a hardship, I know."

Fenris' smile widens. "You are truly selfless."

The purple haze of the barrier finally starts to dim and Hawke takes a tentative step forward to hurry it along. It's torture, being so close to Fenris after months apart yet being unable to touch him, but when the barrier finally gives way, Hawke's not sure how to make the first move.

Fortunately for both of them, Fenris has no such hesitancy.

He's in Hawke's arms the second the barrier dissipates, stretching up on his toes with his arms wrapped around Hawke's neck as he pulls him into a deep, solid hug. Hawke hugs him back just as hard, pressing his face to Fenris' hair and watching the pleased twitch of his ears as Hawke smoothes a hand down his spine.

"I missed you," he mumbles into Fenris' hair. Now that Fenris is safely ensconced in his arms and the long, miserable months in Tevinter are behind him, it seems foolish just how much he hated being away from him.

He's reassured when Fenris only hugs him tighter and whispers back, "I missed you too."

Determined not to start crying on him, Hawke takes a quick sidestep back to levity as he teases, "I knew you stealing my shirt was a sign of affection."

"Or of idleness," Fenris points out. He pulls back a fraction, resting his hands on Hawke's hips as he looks up at him with that lovely little smile again. "Perhaps I didn't want to wash my own."

"That is a terrible excuse," Hawke says before kissing him on the lips. "You can just admit you love my shirts. I won't judge you."

"The rest of Kirkwall may," Fenris says and returns the kiss. "Your shirts are questionable at best."

Hawke's fingers slip under the hem to brush Fenris' skin. "Hey, if you don't like them, I'd be okay with both of us going shirt-free."

Fenris rolls his eyes and kisses him once more. "Perhaps tomorrow," he says, cupping Hawke's cheek. "You look tired."

"I am," Hawke admits. "I don't like boats."

"Good thing Isabela isn't around to hear you say that," Fenris says, brushing Hawke's hair off his face. "Were you sick?"

"Just bored," Hawke says. "You know me, I need more than waves to keep me occupied."

"I expect Tevinter satisfied you in that respect," Fenris says, giving Hawke a lingering pat on the shoulder before stepping back to let him change. "Minrathous is rarely accused of being dull."

"I'll give them that," Hawke says. "Maybe that can be my testimonial in the official report. Tevinter: it's not dull."

Fenris chuckles as he clambers back into bed. The lyrium glows faintly, which Hawke suspects is for his benefit as he strips out of his clothes and fumbles in the chest for his sleep pants.

Fenris shifts under the blankets and there's a tinge of nerves in his voice when he asks, "How was it? Tevinter, I mean."

"Tiring," Hawke says honestly. "I don't know how Varric copes with that many meetings on a regular basis. All the magisters blend into one creepy mass after a while."

Fenris' silence is noticeable and Hawke frowns as he slides into bed next to him. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to know about?"

"No," Fenris says quietly. "I just- You're a mage. I thought you might have enjoyed the freedom Tevinter gives you."

Hawke considers it. "I suppose I didn't have to hide my magic in Tevinter but it's been a while since I hid it here either. The templars mostly just look a bit awkward and then go about their business."

"You weren't tempted?" Fenris asks, rolling over to face him. "You must have stronger magic than half of the magisterium. The right tutors, the right connections, you could rise through the ranks fast."

"And what, become a big fancy magister?" Hawke says with a chuckle.

His smile fades when Fenris gives a tiny shrug. "I've never seen a mage turn down power in Tevinter."

The pieces slot into place and Hawke tries not to let the hurt show in his voice when he asks, "And you thought I wouldn't either?"

He thinks back to his departure, to the lingering kiss Fenris gave him before he left and the sight of him standing on the docks until their ship was out of sight.

"Fenris, did you think I wouldn't come back?"

Fenris' guilty silence is enough of an answer. He flinches as Hawke shifts next to him but surrenders easily when Hawke gathers him into a tight hug.

"That was never an option," Hawke says bluntly. He's surprisingly upset at the idea of it and he presses a firm kiss to Fenris' head as he repeats, " _Never_."

He's almost angry at the suggestion that he would ever choose power and politics over Fenris and Kirkwall but his outrage cools when he thinks of Fenris' past experiences of mages seeking power. The lyrium simmers under his fingers where his hand has slipped past the loose collar of Fenris' shirt and Hawke kisses his forehead again.

"There is nothing in Tevinter that would make me choose it over you," he promises. "They could've made me Archon and given me a lifetime supply of gold and ham and I would still have been on the first boat back."

That gets a smile from Fenris, some of his nervousness fading when he wriggles free enough to kiss Hawke's cheek. "You and your ham."

"That's how you know I'm serious," Hawke says. "I wouldn't bring ham into this unless I really meant it."

"I know," Fenris says. He pulls back enough to rest his head on his pillow, slim fingers tracing patterns on Hawke's arm. "I was foolish. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says, linking his fingers with Fenris'. "After everything you've seen in Tevinter, I guess it was a reasonable assumption."

"It was unfair to you," Fenris says. "I should've known-"

"That I couldn't bear to be parted from you?" Hawke flashes him a grin. "Sad but true. I moped for days -- Varric can attest."

Shaking his head, Fenris leans in to kiss him on the lips. "I won't make the same mistake again."

"And I won't go on any more important trips without you," Hawke says. "Any magisters want to steal you, they'll have to go through me."

Fenris levels Hawke with a look of suspicion. "You just want an excuse to punch more magisters, don't you?"

Hawke grins. "That's just a fortunate side effect."

Fenris relaxes back against his pillow. "How many did you hit in the end? I lost track."

"Eight," Hawke says cheerfully. "Only one broken nose though. Not my best work."

"Whose nose?" Fenris asks, clearly pleased by the thought of injured magisters. "Anyone powerful?"

"Nuntius?" Hawke ventures. "Nautilus? Something like that."

The name is lost but the sneer on the magister's face lingers in Hawke's memory, along with the mocking curve of his smile as he spoke of his own _interaction_ with Fenris during his time under Danarius' yoke.

As far as Hawke's concerned, a broken nose was horribly insufficient.

Fortunately, Hawke's terrible recollection of names works to his advantage when Fenris just shakes his head. "I don't remember that one."

"There are lots of them," Hawke agrees. "Did they always drop like flies? It seems like there was an assassination every couple of weeks."

"Regular assassinations are a staple of Tevinter politics," Fenris says. "Why do you think Danarius needed such a formidable bodyguard?"

"I thought people just wanted to kill him because he was such a dick," Hawke admits. "Also I would definitely pick 'handsome' over 'formidable'. Maybe 'grumpy'."

Fenris elbows him squarely in the side.

"Ow," Hawke says with a smile. "All right, I've seen the error of my ways. You're incredibly formidable."

Fenris rolls his eyes but cuddles closer anyway with a yawn. "I'm glad to have you back."

"The feeling is very mutual," Hawke says, stroking his fingers through Fenris' hair as he stares up at the canopy. "Tevinter was nice to look at -- the houses and the public buildings were beautiful -- but the people…"

There was handshake after handshake, the powerful hands of magisters pressed against his as they welcomed him to their great country. The greetings soon rang hollow when every time he stepped outside, he saw cowed slaves beaten by their owners, poorer citizens slaughtered in the crossfire of a duel, and splatters of blood on the marble from blood magic gone awry.

"The people were awful," he finishes with a sigh. "I know Kirkwall has its faults but we're a city full of paragons compared to Minrathous."

"Perhaps that's why Varric agreed to the trip," Fenris says. "Improve Kirkwall's reputation by comparison."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Hawke says. "Although next time he wants me to go away on important state business, I'm requesting somewhere fun. How would you feel about a few weeks on an Antivan beach?"

"I thought you didn't like watching the waves?" Fenris asks. He sounds exhausted and Hawke fails to suppress his own yawn. "Wouldn't you be bored on a beach?"

"I'd have you there," Hawke points out. "Plus I was kind of hoping you wouldn't be wearing many clothes in this scenario."

"Hmm," Fenris says sleepily. "Maybe in the spring."

"I can live with spring," Hawke says. "I'm definitely done with travelling for the next few months. I'm not leaving Kirkwall or this bed for at least a week."

Expecting some sort of comment on his hygiene and/or appetite after a week in bed, Hawke looks down to find that Fenris is already fast asleep in his arms. His leg is slung over Hawke's thigh and his face is buried in Hawke's shoulder, enough that Hawke can feel the tickle of his breath on each exhale.

His ears twitch as Hawke runs his fingers through his hair but otherwise he's dead to the world when Hawke shifts position slightly.

The solid weight of Fenris' body is a familiar reassurance after months of sleeping alone and Hawke closes his eyes as he plants one last kiss on Fenris' head.

He really, really missed Kirkwall.


End file.
